The Child
by WWHP1729
Summary: Alura Canton is a transfer student to Ilvermorny after her brother went insane and ruined her family's reputation. This is the story of how she redeems it. I do not own this universe. Some topics, terms and spells are not of my own imagination and go to J.K. Rowling and respective authors.


The Child I woke to the sound of creaking floorboards above me, instantly waking me from my slumber. There was a brief silent moment before a rapid barrage of knocks started, and I reluctantly reached over to my nightstand and flicked on the tiny desk lamp lying still on the dusty wood. Alura! my older brother yelled from behind the splintered rectangle of wood. Elias Canton was less fortunate than I was, but we still were viewed as the siblings of the insane wizard responsible for the lockdown of Hogwarts, and our transfer to Ilvermorny in Massachusetts. My brother, Rupert Canton, seventh year, was a skilled practice in dark magic, and eventually drove himself insane via his works, and killed 13 students of Hogwarts out of derangement. Oh, and the frequently recited fact that we were descendants from a powerful family based in the roots of magic in itself. I gripped the bent metal handle of the door, and tried to wrench it open, but it wouldn t budge. I sighed, annoyed, and turned back to the nightstand and groggily slipped my wand (Elm, 13 inches and phoenix feather, nothing special) into my hand. I pointed it at the unmoving door and shifted my feet into a proper combative stance. Bombarda! I incanted, and I watched satisfied as the door exploded outward off of its hinges, giving me a glance of my brother, who was unfortunately standing in direct line with the explosion. That satisfactory feeling instantly melted as the shattered remains of the door smashed into him, burying him under a pile of large wooden splinters. I stood at the now open entrance, frozen and horrified as Elias s limp arm hung from under the pile, completely still. I slowly and cautiously approached the wreckage, and I let out a sigh of relief as he sat up, brushing sawdust from his haphazardly knitted sweater. What in the-! he yelled furiously, and I turned my head to face his. He lifted his legs from the pile and stood in front of me threateningly. What was that for? he asked me.  
I couldn t get the door to budge. You didn t have to use the exploding charm! Elias retorted, showing no signs of claiming down. fix it. I reluctantly followed his command and lifted my wand again, nonverbally lifting the pieces of the door and fixing them together. With another quick swipe, I rehanged the door and stowed my wand. Elias stood his ground until I had finished, and afterwards he continued back to his room, likely to collect his supplies. I grunted and turned away into the hall, walking among the walls plastered with timeless tapestries and random magic portraits that probably carried dark pasts and rigid memories that I had never been enlightened of. It was no secret that my entire family was secretive, not to mention enigmatic whenever they were absolutely forced to talk about their history. Given my usual attitude, I would have been suspicious or at least skeptical, but not today. Rupert s birthday ominously fell on the day I first attended Ilvermorny, (today) and I could vouch for the fact that absolutely no one in my family was going to be lively. I continued into the kitchen, which was still nothing lavish or overly huge, nor was it tiny. I had never been normal, but I m not and never will be one of those rich snob stereotypes, so I had no problem with it except the sense of abnormality it stowed upon me. The rest of the morning moved fairly slowly, as I thought over the scenarios of how I was supposed to get there. I knew that all new Ilvermorny students weren t allowed a wand until they arrived at the school, but I happened to be the exception. The rest of the morning after my arrival at the transport building (Which turned out to be an enormous vanishing cabinet) was a blur of people and noise, but enough summarizing. The hall inside the transportation building was filled to the brim, to the point where I could barely make out the velvet carpet beneath us. I turned and followed the crowd into another room, and my jaw dropped. The cabinet I had heard about was nowhere near the size of this one. The enormous box was decorated with engravings of the Gordian knot in bronze, with massive bolt jutting from the sides. Suddenly, I was forced forward by the crowd, which seemed to be rushing into the cabinet. I had no choice but to flow with them, and soon enough I had been forced into the box itself, and the doors shut behind me. I was about to leave my entire life behind. I shook the feeling off and braced myself as the doors opened, revealing a jagged landscape riddled with sharp rocks. It took me a moment to get my bearings and realize I was in a cave, below Greylock Mountain. I had done my research on the history of this place, which made the experience less harrowing, but made it no less confusing. I followed the bustling crowd out of the cabinet, and up several flights of spiral stairs, until we reached a wide hall at the top. A voice sounded from the far end, telling us to be quiet. The room drowned in silence, and everyone turned their heads to the podium at the center, where a figure stood. I recognized him instantly. Agilbert Fontaine was the current headmaster through my brother s crimes, and was a direct descendant of Theodard Fontaine, one of the original twelve aurors in America. Welcome, students, to the North American School of witchcraft and wizardry. He boomed, his voice magnified by the charms set around the podium. This will be a strange year, as we have several transfers from Hogwarts, which I daresay needs no introduction. The crowd erupted into applause, and I followed suit to not feel out of place, which didn t work very well considering I was a fifth year about to be sorted and second time. Turns out, the next thing that Fontaine executed was the exact ceremony. I was called up along with the first-years, and I got enough of a look to understand the ceremony. As soon as I was called to the Gordian Knot, directly after Terrance Bridges was sorted into Horned Serpent, I stowed my wand which I had been fingering for the last thirty minutes. I stood in the center, and there was unbroken silence as I waited for one of the four creatures wrapped in the Gordian Knot to react. There was more, silence, and I started to fear there was something wrong. I turned to look at the Pukwudgie, Horned Serpent and Thunderbird emblazoned of the floor, and I gritted my teeth as the thought entered my mind. Maybe I didn t belong here. Maybe I was never going to fit in. That s when the sound of flapping wings broke the silence. The magical drawing of the Thunderbird had begun to flap its wings, effectively sorting me into the house I had hoped for. I had been sorted into Ravenclaw in my previous years at Hogwarts, and this was at least close to the Ilvermorny equivalent. I smiled wryly and walked from the Gordian Knot, joining the other Thunderbirds. I took a glance around me, assessing the people around me. Nobody so far had tried to knock me off the stage, so I had a good first impression. That lasted about six seconds. A dark blonde-haired boy sat beside me, and started breathing heavily down my neck. I turned to stop him, but he only retorted angrily.  
Hey, that s creepy, quit it, I whispered rapidly.  
Maybe you should go complain to your brother, he replied wittily, and my jaw dropped. My brother had never been found after he jumped from the Hogwarts express, which led most investigators to believe he had fallen to his death since they found no evidence of a cushioning charm when they tested his wand. Who do you think you are? I rasped, whipping around to make eye contact with him. He was a Thunderbird as well, and I reached down for my wand. He appeared to be a transfer as well, and judging by his looks, about one year older. I only reconsidered my combative methods when I realized he would be armed as well, and greatly threatening. It was then when I realized who I was backing down. Barnaby Winston had excessively bullied my family for what appeared to be its only blemish. Elias suffered it the most for his shocking resemblance to Rupert, and Barnaby kept going on about how there was going to be another Voldemort, etc. I proceeded to ignore him, and I waited out the rest of the night seeking revenge on Barnaby Winston. 


End file.
